Psychoanalysis & Social World

Just when I thought all that had to be said about bullying had been said, I met my loss of reflections around it, marking its territory in unavoidably stinky ways. Yeah, I’m a week late in delivering this daak & whilst I want to blame the brain freeze caused by antibiotics, the analyst in me doesn’t buy that answer. Blink if you’ve been bullied. Sigh if you’ve been ‘casually’ bullied. Pause if you’ve been a bully, especially in culturally sanctioned ways. While it is the necessitated idea that ‘bullying as an act be condemned’, it is also conveniently necessitated that the experience of bullying- as a bully or bullied, be stamped with the sanctioned response towards it. In other words, even before bullying has come to be symbolized by the mind, it is condemned or casually granted, aka, given meaning on our behalf. ** Sounds patronising! Then how is determining meaning or assuming one meaning on behalf of the other not a rationalised form of bullying? When the very genuine attempt at fathoming bullying is riding on the ideals of patronising (telling someone what is good/bad for them), exclusion & legitimisation (only certain acts get to be condemned as bullying), it is worrisome but true that bullying is more pervasive, ordinary, and omnipresent than we’d like to believe. So this is a call out not only to Karen, but the Karens within all of us. Any turn you take, there has been bullying- there’s bullying in families in the garb of care, bullying amongst close friends as a norm of friendship, bullying at the workplace as acceptable hierarchical behaviours, bullying in intimate relationships muddled with affection, bullying via money, via gatekeeping, via manipulation, via gaslighting, bullying in the name of help, in the name of strengthening, in the name of canoodling. We’re born into a system of bullying & being bullied. Alas, this piece of writing will not be able to ascertain how we get out of this loop, it will not be able to protect your kids (furry, green or otherwise) from the detrimental acts, it will not be able to soothe your memories emerging from corners of your mind. All this piece can do is, bring bullying from the corners of the dark realities to broadly lit, consensual centres. The hope is to be disillusioned by the distance we assume from bullying and recognize it as a psychically & generationally governed method of separateness, object representation and personal narrative. → Separateness It would not be wrong to start by highlighting psychoanalysis 101: since birth, the infant’s motivation towards separateness becomes the life force that helps them survive, and sustain. From Freud to Mahler to Klein, psychoanalysts have been in consensus that separateness from the primary caregiver is a developmental milestone that forges a healthy sense of self. This is all lovely until we look at the tumultuous process that goes behind enduring this separation- the threat of loss, the experience of abandonment, the impossibility of control and so on. This linear-looking psychic phenomenon, essential as it is, often finds itself spilling over moments where separation is not guaranteed, but created– it spills over in the façade of achievements (establishing that one is better than the other), it spills into the legitimacy for titles (any title- Dr, Lt., Sir, etc work only as a means of separation), it spills on to cornering the other who we must be separate from (any religious/social group). Each individual is both the bully and bullied, and an aspect of “mutual recognition” resides in acknowledging the pleasure as well as the pain in our co-participation (Freud, 1921). When the expectation & rewards of separation are aligned with the developmental demands & social structure, to manage how that separation is played out is a naïve act of putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. → Object Representation The concept of object representation speaks of the internal images that the child creates, determining the importance of early object relations in shaping an individual’s intrapsychic world & patterns of relating to others. Do you ever find yourself splitting the world (or a person) into rigid categories of “all good” and “all bad”? This splitting surfaces in our own incapacity to integrate the positive & negative into a cohesive way, that may give proxy to benefit of doubt. The ideals of ‘good’ vs ‘bad’ are unconsciously sewn into our minds, even before we begin to recognise them as coming from within or the outside. These ideals manage our expectations of others; they weave feelings that demand to be felt. Now imagine these unconscious aesthetics meeting a splitting reality that is far from inclusive and sharply perpendicular in its exclusion. In other words, the mental apparatus of ‘part objects’ (Klein) continues to be played out in the world where one, often not even a significant part, of a person/ group is enough to cast exclusion or bullying; or where another singular part of one’s being surpasses all judgement & logic to grant them the privilege. Such distorted object representations of the world where being born on one side of the line is callous, where accessibility is a privilege, where language is used to separate & inclusion comes with protest speaks for Ashis Nandy’s idea that “modern colonialism won its great victories not so much through its military & technological prowess but through its ability to colonise minds, in addition to bodies” (2009). In such a distorted world of impaired object representations, emotional attunement is compromised. The question this raises is, how far can individual sensitization go in a world that is running on the terrains of primitive psychic structures? → Personal Narratives And this is where it all gets too real. This is where painful, traumatic narratives of bullying beseech thought. This is where we get to hear “bullied become bullies”. A number of analysts believe that children who are subjected to bullying, abuse or mistreatment often internalize & adopt aspects of the aggressive behaviour they endured. It’s as if their mind says “If you can’t beat them, join them” as a way of

Imagine taking a luxurious catnap on a freshly ironed piece of clothing— a cliché cardigan, if you may, only to wake up and realize that while your inner world is rich, your bank account might be echoing with emptiness. Sounds familiar, eh? Therapists are the professional listeners, emotional shock absorbers, and mind untanglers (or am I just making it sound cool?)— yet behind the calm nods and knowing silences, many are wrestling with a different kind of tension: the complex financial realities. Despite years of training, an overflow of compassion, and the daily task of stitching up the frayed edges of others’ lives, therapist’s own economics often looks less like stability and more like an unpaid internship in emotional labor. Take 1: The Paradox of Professional Care Many therapists don’t just step into this work- they are shaped by it. As children, they learned to read the room before they knew how to read, to soothe others before they understood their own needs. Caring became second nature, but so did disappearing. This early act of self-abnegation, much like the repression of instinctual desires, sets the stage for a career marked by both immense empathy and profound self-neglect. The financial undervaluation of their labor mirrors the split between the idealized self & the needy other. In offering care so freely (literally), many therapists unknowingly re-enact a familiar dynamics- an existence where tending to the Other was essential, as the survival of the child depended on them. The stakes, interestingly, shifts from physical survival to psychic survival in these enacted dyads. Take 2: When Expertise Meets Economic Reality The economic landscape for therapists is riddled with contradictions- the work is sacred, yet undervalued; necessary, yet often underpaid; built on deep care, yet leaving many struggling to care for themselves. Generational narratives of sacrifice whisper that passion should be enough, while the realities of rent, bills, and burnout tell a different story. Further, the shushh-ness around discussing money feels as taboo as admitting personal vulnerability, as if these ideas stand opposing the archetype of the work. And then, there’s the ache of never feeling ‘good enough’—the quiet, relentless pull to train more, learn more, invest more in becoming the therapist they believe the patients deserve. They pour into countless trainings, supervision, and therapeutic spaces, not just out of professional duty, but from a relentless hunger to prove— to the self, to the field, to some unseen authority, that we are enough. Alas, this is not just a professional dilemma, but an internalised structure— an unconscious contract where value is tethered to sacrifice. The superego, steeped in ideals of selflessness, wages war against the id’s fundamental need for security & pleasure, leaving the ego to negotiate a compromise that rarely satisfies either. In this dynamic, earning feels like taking, and taking is being greedy, being excessive. Take 3: Breaking the Silence Let’s face it— just as loneliness creeps in when we deny our own need for connection (remember the newsletter last month?!! Remember??- NOD!)…  yeah, so just as loneliness creeps in when we deny our own need for connection, financial deprivation sets in when we neglect our worth. Therapists often bear the double burden of emotional labor and economic strain, all while upholding an archetype of invincibility. I mean, seriously?! In the spirit of psychoanalytic inquiry, we must ask: How do these economic pressures shape the very identities of therapists? And if care was no longer tied to sacrifice, would it threaten the very structure upon which many therapists have built their sense of ‘good enough-ness’? P.S. If you’re a therapist reading this, consider this a gentle reminder: you put in a lot in your work & your expertise is invaluable, but so is your well-being, both emotional and financial. It’s time to rewrite the internal narrative of deprivation.  Recognising the fiscal challenges is not a confession of inadequacy but a needful step towards integrating the repressed parts of oneself. Therapists must dare to confront the economic realities, challenging the old narratives of self-denial that no longer serve them. Only then can one reclaim not just the financial stability, but the full spectrum of one’s being. P.P.S. Money is never about just money…

It’s appropriately windy outside & I’ve had my two breakfasts, along with four baths & one torn amazon box… all in all, it’s a good day to take matters into my own paws and spew some facts straight. For starters, my name is not Anar, it’s Anar Dana- I’m not a tedious fruit, I’m a flavour, a metamorphosis, a memory. BOW. Yes, my human is conspicuously twisted to name me, only to rename me, and then they wonder why my kin doesn’t respond to these uncharacteristic pseudonyms given to us. Our kitty party includes angoor, chamak, elaichi, laung, kishmish, adrak & damru. I mean, come on humans… & you’re surprised about you making ‘bad choices’. So, I’m not a therapist. But I’ve sat in the therapist’s chair long, wide & forcefully enough to examine the irony of being human. And while I don’t have a collarbone (go do your research, human), I do have a lazy bone in me so let me get to the point. — You’re taught to colour between the lines, whilst you could’ve just moved the lines. — Your silence is dissociative, not contemplative. — You eat trash… None of my business though, your dogs can deal with it.  Point 1. There are very few things that bring the human clan together beyond their racial & geographical differences. Ironically, those few things are often their misplaced priorities… I mean what is this mass obsession with coloring inside the lines? You teach your tiny humans to master control, behold urges, follow rules, only to turn around & expect them to be playful, creative & free. Is it just me who can see through the BS that you want your clan to think ‘out of the box’, but stay ‘inside the lines’? Yes, I’m told that discipline is a form of love too, but this sounds like some twisted version of colonizing the mind, where the rules might vary, but the experience of them continues to be threatening to the developing ego.  The hyperawareness of the lines, more than the colours, crystalises for the mind the essentiality of self-obstruction– that one can only restrict the fantasies & be enticed by the other (possibilities, people, life). This self-obstruction is the neurotic gift of civilisation that dooms any attempts at change. “We spend most of our lives anxiously hoping we will change… and doing everything we can to stop this happening” (Phillips, 2023). No wonder you’re all fascinated & doom scrolling my kin uninhibitedly knocking things off the table.  Point 2. Let me enlighten you, human. Cats don’t meow at each other, they only meow to communicate with humans, because we’ve learnt of your discrediting relationship with silence. Your silence, laden with strings of withdrawal, withholding & wishfulness, is a communicative tool rather than a contemplative space. Salman Akhtar, in his description of 8 types of silences talks about how silence is as demonstrative as talking, and yet humans cannot be farther away from it.  Silence is viscerally experienced as an absence, an empty space or an anxious position, demanding the psyche to dissociate into fragments of self-soothing. I seldom wonder where my human is when she’s silent in a session- is she waiting in a void, or is she thinking about her thinking?  If Maroda is right, the analyst is often too comfortable not engaging relationally with the silence. It becomes a moment of respite from the collusion with the analysand’s unconscious, a return to the state of nothingness, a complete collapse of the relational dialogue.  I can vouch for that, for I take the pains of rescuing my human from her silence by chewing off her books mid sessions, but her thanklessness speaks of an unexamined interpersonal exchange.  So, dearest human, I often gaze into many antidotes to these orchestrated communal living that humans have internalised, and normalised in an attempt at staying integrated. But here are a few purrls of wisdom.Use a litter box. (read again*)If it fits, it sits. Reclaim.It’s okay to draw boundaries, but please don’t start colouring in them for cat’s sake!You will not be liked by everyone. You’re not a dog.Someone somewhere is joyed because of you.I’ve done my part for the day, or year. I must now surrender myself to my zoomies & sprint around the house for no reason… something many would wish to do too if not for compromising their model of sanity. P.S. Adult relationships find an undeniable mirror when you get a cat, or become one.P.P.S. pspspsppsps.

This has to be my first time speaking about the heat to everyone. This has to be the first time everyone has spoken about the heat to me. I mean, of course, Global warming is real, Karen… I’m not on the edge of reality, yet. But for those of us who have the luxury to survive the heat- physically & mentally, on most days, also have the responsibility to reflect on it- not just as a climatic crisis, but as a shared psychosocial fabric of human experience. Whilst I wanted to pen a jolly newsletter, I think that ship has sailed (to wherever there is water). Because from where I see, I see people of certain classes working under that ruthless sun, I see dogs drinking filthy water from anywhere possible, I see poverty- of economy, thought & compassion under a bright sun.  I see we’re waking up to a literally burning world all around.  How does that feel, Karen? And sure some of us have the massive undertone of privilege where our air-conditioned world doesn’t seem to be burning, but let me break it to you, then it’s slowly melting.  For someone who works from home, with 24×7 air conditioning & pets not having to scavenge for water in the scorching sun, my world shouldn’t be withering either, and yet here I am recovering from a self-imposed quarantine & depleted cathexis. So, this newsletter is to compassionately inform you that if: Sounds rather convenient, isn’t it? So, let’s look at the ‘science’. In a notable (& not so ethical) study at the University of Richmond, researchers exposed rats, divided into two groups, to either normal room temperature or extreme heat conditions, mimicking the effects of a severe heatwave (around 104°F) for several hours per day over several weeks. As the weeks passed, the heat-exposed rats began to exhibit concerning changes. Their behaviour grew increasingly anxious, as if constantly on edge. When tasked with navigating mazes, their spatial memory faltered, leaving them disoriented. Within their tiny brains, a storm was brewing (obviously). Inflammatory markers rose, and stress hormones surged, disrupting the delicate chemical balance (something their life coaches & motivational speakers could not undo). Consequently, the brain activity patterns shifted (despite journalling!!!), reflecting the strain imposed by the unrelenting heat.  The researchers watched with concern, realising that-  #1. 104°F/40°C is the new ‘cool’ when temperatures in many parts of the country touched 122°F/52°C, & #2. this experiment was a microcosm of the mental health challenges that extreme heat could bring to human populations in a melting world. Several other ‘experiments’ have been messing with the rodents to ascertain a simple point- that the temperatures/ climate impacts your mental health detrimentally.  Ingenious, right?!  And I’m not even getting into the class, caste, race or gender differences herein which would only make psychic survival & growth look bleak for one sect more than the other. Psychoanalyst Donna Orange (2017) reminds us that “the climate crisis and social injustice are not two separate issues, but rather are one single, inextricably connected issue”. Perhaps, it must appal you how little such obvious facts about your mental health are spoken about. It must anger you that we’re left to find meaning in our internalized pathology of our dysfunction in a productivity-oriented world. It must rile you to demand a response to this ‘climate crisis buttoned with the pervasive mental health crisis’ CRISIS. I hope it does, for otherwise we too are the rats in the oblivious experiments of the industrial maze. There is no more denying that the destruction of the earth has a clear correlation with the destruction of the mentalized (Fonagy) world. There is no more denying that the rising temperatures are impacting how we live, feel, and relate with each other in subtle unhealthy adaptive ways. There is no more denying that our psychosocial fabric is melting. The problem here is that I can’t quote Freud or deploy Winnicott to direct us to work through this permeable crisis. This is a concern of the modern world that bereaves us of insight, yet also allows us the freedom to forge new ones. Some ongoing reflections in the praxis that are engaging with this crisis give ample ground to start this conversation. So this is where I pause, almost running out of ideas to secure felt stability, & hoping today would be less hot for those who don’t have the luxury to write about ‘how hot it is’. Whilst we write, read & reflect on this chaos from a place of privilege, I’m unwaveringly certain we also write, read & reflect from a place of compassion & responsibility. A responsibility towards containing the melting world. P.S. I hope you & your family are safe, wherever you are. If not the heat, from the cold, the rains, the droughts, the forest fires- from the (bad) mother earth. P.P.S. If you’re safe, I hope that safety has the capacity to be extended to someone who isn’t.

Anar Dana here, your ever-observant feline philosopher, currently stretched across my favourite spot right in front of the AC, pondering your curious preoccupation with triggers. I’ve noticed, with my impeccably sharpened ears- which I use to ignore my human calling out my name- that you humans seem not consciously convinced, but internally confused that everything is a trigger. Let me state the obvious- not everything is a trigger. When the bowl is empty, I’m not triggered; I’m hungry.When the door is closed, I’m not triggered; I’m mildly inconvenienced (and outrightly vengeful). But from where I see- every small discomfort, every quiet pang, every faint whisper of unease is being called a “trigger”, not just by tech bros and finance dudes, but by thoughtful, reflective minions of the wisely world! It’s as if you fear that unless your feelings are labeled with dramatic precision, nobody will hear their soft, uncertain murmurs. So, we need to talk about how therapy-speak has escaped the consulting room and now roams freely across brunch tables, reels, and arguments with your partner (yes I know everything!).  What is ‘therapy-speak’, you ask? It’s the not-so-subtle art of weaponizing your therapist’s vocabulary to explain exactly why you’re setting boundaries, but never quite admitting you’re just feeling forgotten. And why do you do this, when you can not do this? Tell me ……… Well, simply because humans, much like cats, find it easier to curl up behind clever words than admit we’re scared kittens underneath- hiding our softness behind a language that feels like claws, but lands like paws. In Freudian words- it’s a defence masking a deep vulnerability by introducing something that feels easier to explain & fight for. We speak “therapy” to gently push others off the spot without starting a hiss-fight, to lick wounds we pretend aren’t there, and sometimes just to convince ourselves we landed gracefully, but did we?! The Allure of the “Trigger” Label I mean, let’s face it- there is an irresistible allure of calling everything a trigger!  This word holds the seductive power of transforming a banal discomfort into meaningful narratives. It mirrors the symbolic process- giving your pain an immediate, compelling significance. My petty hooman latches onto “trigger” because it promises instant validation and authenticates her emotional experience, especially in a culture otherwise often dismissive of subtler, quieter hurts. I am the culture. I mean who cares that it forecloses the possibility of any real reflection or connection, right? Who cares that it will not leave you feeling any better than before? The goal, is to land on our feet.  ** recovering from the cringe above ** In case my clever sarcasm evaded you, here’s my profound psychoanalytic insight, Karen- the frequent misuse of “trigger” risks flattening the emotional terrain into a steady landscape of affect. By labeling every discomfort as traumatic, the very gravity of true trauma gets diluted, and might I say, such flattening might mask deeper unconscious conflicts- cuz why not?! I mean why else would we call every discomfort traumatic only to have the genuine, painful experiences lose their nuance, and… and… and… become indistinguishable from everyday irritations? And despite that, one would say this isn’t an all hiding and masking game, for if it were, one wouldn’t experience vulnerability over performing masculinity (jk… or is it?!). This relentless labeling is not any bland fish, dear human, it carries an old conflict- between wanting to be seen and the dread of being exposed. To declare something a trigger is to simultaneously reach out for empathy and retreat from hurt. It allows the safety of isolation, with an entanglement with the other. Being “triggered” becomes the perfect halfway house- exposing just enough to evoke care but hiding enough to avoid feeling too exposed!! P.S. I know, you know, that not everything is a trigger. But I also know that everything demands to be felt! P.P.S. Hold it lightly!